


Baby I'm not a monster

by mybigfatcat



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Blood, Gore, M/M, Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1266412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybigfatcat/pseuds/mybigfatcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Limb by limb, wound by wound, Jiyong learns that the pain is nothing as Seungri talks to him about a world he's never seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby I'm not a monster

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Blood, gore and mutilation. Sensitive readers stay away.
> 
> Disclaimer: Events depicted in this story are not real, nor is this story meant for commercial use.
> 
>  
> 
> Note: Read at your own discretion. This is what no sleep and a thriller movie OST does to me.

"Where am I?"

It's pitch black. He can't see a thing. It's like he hasn't even opened his eyes. He lifts a hand to his face to check if he has, but maybe he's blind. Did he imagine hearing a voice?

"I'm scared, just tell me where I am. Pleeease," a soft voice pleads from somewhere at his side. He definitely didn't imagine that. He tries to feel with his right arm, tries to find the boy speaking, but it's awkward fumbling when he's lying on his back. There's faint sobs coming from the darkness now, and short, pained, breaths. He gets up on one elbow, pushes himself painstakingly to his knees and starts moving over. He doesn't get far before he bumps into something, something warm.

The other boy yelps and scurries away, and stays away for a minute or so, before suddenly moving back.

"Are you... are you one of the ones that took me here? Please will you let me go? I want to go home," the boy pleads once more, but now he sounds more desperate.

A hand finds his head, he's still on his knees. Short fingers slip through his hair, and then the boy has his arms around his neck. It takes a while before he understands that the boy is sobbing into the crook of his neck, shivering all over. The boy is smaller than him, bonier, maybe even younger if his voice fits his age. How old am I? he asks himself.

He doesn't know.

He shapes his lips to make sounds, words even, but nothing comes out. He's trapped in the dark with a child around his neck, and he has no idea how he got there. Or who he is.

 

-

 

Eventually there is light.

The boy that cried in the night turns out to be maybe just a few years younger than him. The boy has got a round face and a pair of eyes that makes him think of... he doesn't know who.

He gets to watch the boy grow up in three separate rooms and one long corridor. He wishes that he could've seen it happen in two rooms, because the third is white, shining and it's the room of pain.

One time the boy comes back to their cell with his arm covered in blood. They have meticulously peeled the skin of off the boy's lower arm leaving the red muscle exposed. He gets to watch the wound grow closed during the evening, leaving the skin completely unmarked. He gets to watch the boy writhe and shake and sweat. He gets to watch the boy in pain.

Sometimes he's the one that comes back from the white room and the boy is the one to hold him tight until the suffering has passed.

While he grows up the wounds close quicker and quicker, until one day it closes even before he gets back to their cell.

Not one of the guards, or the men and women of the white room, have spoken a single word to him and he hasn't tried speaking again.

The boy speaks for them both. The boy whispers in the night about water, mountains, streets, basketball hoops and mothers. He doesn't know what those things are, but he finds himself waiting every night to see if he'll be told more of the world he doesn't know.

One day he's alone in his cell when he wakes up. That evening, as the boy has not been returned, he tries to hang himself with his trousers and ends up in the white room, dragged there by the guards that usually only poke them in the right direction.

On a table next to him lies a read, bleeding body. There isn't an inch of skin left and it takes the boy one night to heal himself. He watches as his throat burn where he had broken it with the makeshift noose. Then they're left alone for a week. After that there are gun shots and knives, and having to push his guts back into his stomach before the wound closes in on itself. No more flaying though. Eventually their limbs get amputated one by one and it takes days for new ones to grow out. But as with the skin, it seems their bodies only need practice. Soon it takes minutes, then seconds. He doesn't even know what pain is anymore.

Somewhere along the line, the boy grows a bit taller than him and now he's the one that crawls up in the boy's arms at night and cry silently because he can't make sounds. The boy talks and talks, his steadfast dark eyes, lined with shadows of exhaustion, keep him steady in the white room.

Then there is a fourth room and there are for the first time mirrors. He walks up to them, the guards are still standing back as he holds the boy by the hand and moves. It's scary, seeing himself for the first time. To lay his eyes on the gangly and pale creature he is, his hair without color and cropped short. His eyes are too big for his face, too full of fear. He narrows them and follows the line of his wide but narrow shoulders, his slim waist, the effect that makes him look so different from the boy even though they're equally thin.

He walks up to the glass and breathes out against it, quickly drawing signs in the condensation on the cool silver glass.

_Jiyong._

He writes, the characters have sprung from deep inside his memory where he didn't know they were hiding.

The boy looks at him with amazement, then holds out his hand.

“I'm Seunghyun, but there was two of us on our street, so everyone called me Seungri,” the boy says, confident when there's never room for confidence.

Jiyong shakes his hand and smiles as he's seen the boy do, Seungri do, when he's happy or pleased, or when Jiyong has hugged him through the worst parts of healing back an eye.

“I thought it wasn't fair that I had a name when you couldn't tell me yours,” Seungri explains. Bowing his head in case Jiyong doesn't accepect the apology.

Jiyong has just enough time to wrap him up in a hug and press his face against Seungri neck before a siren goes off and the ground shakes so hard that he can't stay on his feet.

After guns and knives and flaying there is explosions, grenades and shrapnel lodged deep in his body. They heal from every wound and the pain is nothing but breathing.

 

-

 

Jiyong thinks that they might be gods. He thinks this, no, he knows this because he's seen Seungri die, he's seen him blown to bits, and yet afterwards he's alive again. Seungri says that it has happened to him too. But you worship gods, you don't pull them to pieces over and over again until the pieces are too small to pull apart.

One night, when they've been killed and resurrected, Seungri puts a small hand on Jiyong's cheek. It's dark, as it always is at night in their cell, completely bereft of light. Jiyong feels a puff of hot breath before soft lips find his. It starts a fire in every inch of his skin, as if he's being flayed by Seungri's mouth. He can't have enough of it, he pulls Seungri in so tight that they can hardly breathe. With each night the fire burns brighter and Jiyong soon dares to set fire to Seungri as well.

It only hurts the more when they're lying in pieces, or when they're torn open on the ground, the following day. But Seungri's lips, skin, cock and hair all make Jiyong want to survive that much more. Soon they heal damage in a mere blink of the eye.

What have they created? Jiyong can see it in the eyes of the guards. They're afraid now.

Jiyong breathes against the mirror glass and writes “gods” in the condensation of his breath.

Seungri nods and that evening they breaks the necks of their two escorts and starts a fire using the grenades at the room with the mirror wall. That night they kill until there's no one left to strangle, they themselves dying and being reborn again and again in the process.

The world outside is daunting, Jiyong trusts his eyes even less than he did when he first saw himself as he pushes a door open, Seungri securely tagging along by a fist in the back of his shirt. The world is so big and the sky is endless. Jiyong could lean all the way back until he landed on his back against the ground and even then he wouldn't see the end of it.

“Are you sure now, have you really never been out here?” Seungri asks as Jiyong walks ahead with his eyes wide open.

Jiyong shakes his head, no, he's never seen this before. If he had then he would've remembered it.

“Where not good gods,” Seungri whispers. He's stopped and he stands looking back at the burning building built against a rocky hill in the dry landscape.

Jiyong couldn't care less. The wrath of gods and all that.

He just laces his fingers together with Seungri's and walks, walks until his legs give out, then they sleep and then they walk again.

Seungri tells him about bakeries and convenience stores as they pass through one dead city after the other. The people they meet are even thinner than they are. Everyone is desperate for food and now is the first time that Jiyong realizes that he has never eaten. Seungri takes this with ease, he remembered life before the pain after all. The people they meet speak another language than Seungri does. He takes this too with ease.

One day they're killed by scavengers, but they are alive a moment later and lie pretending to be dead on the ground until the men move on.

Sometimes Jiyong wishes that he didn't have to see this strange new place that has grown out of the ruins of Seungri's memories, but when it get's to be too much for him he can crawl up in Seungri's arms and breathe. It makes all the difference in the world.

Seungri teaches him the word “monster”. Jiyong shakes his head at that and draws the characters for gods in the air, mirrored for Seungri to see. The boy, who's now a man, sitting by his side is not a monster. Jiyong knows the word love from before. He draws that sign too and Seungri smiles at him.

**Author's Note:**

> End note: I have no idea how this came to be the first thing I wrote about nyongtori pair... I should be ashamed... I blame BIGBANG's "Monster" MV and creepy thriller OSTs!


End file.
